Snape's Revenge
by Oedipus Tex
Summary: After the defeat of Voldemort, Prof. Snape published a book of potions that were accidently discovered by the bumbling hands of Neville Longbottom. This is the preface to that book. ONE-SHOT


**AN**: This was written in between the publications of books four and five. This story, therefore, is not completely accurate to canon.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter nor its characters nor its plot nor anything belongs to me. I am not making money off this story. If I were, I'd be J.K. Rowling, and driving a nicer car.

Longbottom's Special Brew: Simple-Minded Potions Made Fantastically Deadly Preface 

While the present title of this book is acceptable, it was not my first choice. The original title met with some disapproval: _Longbottom's Potions Manual: or, How I Survived Neville and Learned to Love My Health_. My present employer, Headmaster Dumbledore of Hogwarts School of etc. etc. (as if you didn't already know), professed that this was a snarky title indeed; my colleague Minerva McGonagall (Prof. Of Transfiguration and Head of Gits Galore, Gryffindor) told me I "needed to grow up once and for all, and leave the boy alone, he is long gone…" and company. I feel that this was an invalid comment, for as long as Longbottom lives, he would be my victim, for I continue to stand in constant danger of meeting my end by his incapable hands. Even so, Albus suggested that I entitle this something else. Thus began the insanity of finding a new moniker.

Albus began a writing campaign, and wrote every single person who had ever been within a ten-mile radius of me, asking for suggestions. I literally received hundreds, ranging from the bitterly ridiculous, to the even more ridiculous. My colleagues were especially talented at this sort.

Prof. Flitwick dared, _Perusing Potentially Poisonous Potion by Prodigal Potions Pupil, Prof. Snape. _"It is a shame," he noted, "that your name does not begin with the letter P." The horror of such a thought (for reasons related to certain individuals) astounds me, I assure you. Prof Sprout solved this problem by suggesting the equally worthless, _Substantially Serious Substances by Severus Snape, Scholar, Slytherin, and Spy Superb._ Herein, I threatened that the next person who suggested an alliterate title would meet their end by a carefully selected potion from this book. That shut them up. Of course, I still received the lion's share of idiotic submissions, from a host of dunderheads.

Prof McGonagall: _Potions for Everyday_. Not only is it entirely too boring, but anyone with a marshmallow's brain would realize that these potions are not for every day—unless, of course, you exist to cause destruction. Trelawney descended from her smoking, incense-filled haven to supply the supremely uninteresting, _Potions_. Prof Sinistra descended from her lofty tower (in daylight, no less!) to take it one step further:

_The Potions Book_.

The suggestions from the general public were no less simple-minded: _Wizard's Brew_ quoth know-it-all Hermione Granger (I dropped the rest of the lengthy title, for fear of assaulting my readers with boredom, and I just don't do things like that anymore). Ron Weasley imparted, _Dangerous Potions Made Simple_; surely, this was a joint effort with Harry Potter, for he suggested the surprisingly astute, _Simple Potions Made Dangerous_.

Albus sent a questionnaire to Percy Weasley, but the only thing I got back from him was, "Are you certain that the material contained is within lawful regulations?" The thought that my book might, one day, be classified as Dark, and only obtainable in the shadowiest corners of Knockturn Alley, excites me, indeed.

Many suggestions were more towards insulting my character than actually being helpful. This sort came from those I am less than friendly with. That is, I am friendly with no one, although some do receive more respect than others. (Some might say I respect no man, but this isn't true. I have never punched Albus Dumbledore in the head, nor have I ever seriously considered slipping him a flatulence potions—it is little known that _I_ am the reason why Mad-Eye only drinks from his own flask.) Speaking of Moody and insinuating book title suggestions, he sent one: _The Death Eaters Manual to Chemical Warfare: You-Know-Who's Use of Potions, Poisons, and Other Nasty Brews, As Told By the Dark Lord's Personal Potions Brewer, Severus Snape_. He further revealed his ignorance to me by begging the question, "And when are you going to finish _The Death Eater Manifesto_?" After I finish, _101 Ways to Fool the Ministry into Believing You're Not the Enemy When You Really Are: Even A Child Could Do It!_

There is one other example of note, not that the author is of any, but if he goes down into history as the primitive monkey that he is, then I can be satisfied. Sirius Black is this ape I speak of. He is known to you all as the man who was "wrongfully" accused of betraying James Potter, blowing up I forget how many Muggles as well as Peter Pettigrew, and wasting away in Azkaban for 12 years before escaping that wretched place. (Albus has just looked over my shoulder, as I write this, and tells me that the "" around the "wrongfully" is very disappointing. The old man attempts to use guilt on me.) All right then, I'll give Black this much: he is innocent of the _official _charges that landed him into Azkaban, as far as I know.

I'm sure that by my tone, the more observant of you (if there are any to be had) must realize that I possess a special species of hatred for Black. This is true, and he returns it, although perhaps with less subtlety. The feelings date back to when we were First-years, and they have grown as much as our statures (of course, Black spends a disproportionate amount of his time crawling on the ground like a common animal, but there you have it). Of course, we do very little to hide our emotions, and thus the nature of Black's title suggestions for this publication. I am unable to print most of them here, for virtue—or lack thereof—of their extremely offensive contents; this book is meant to be sold in more shops than the ones with X's in _their_ title. A few are all right, my editor informs me: _Severus Snape's Greasy, Gitful Guide to Slimy and Snarky Tonics and Potions_, and _1001 Ways to Bump Off the Neighbors Without Causing Suspicion to Fall Upon Me—I Mean, You_. This last title impressed me, for I had no idea that Black's canine mind even knew what a Freudian slip was, much less how to spell "suspicion". Black is proof that this is not a dog-eat-dog world after all. If it were, an acquaintance, Remus Lupin, would have finished him off long ago. This is a tragedy.

The examples displayed above are only representations of the majority of the suggestions I received. When I say majority, I speak of a value of roughly 100. Perhaps 100 is too harsh. Let me revise it for 98.7. Out of 237 propositions, 3 were of any note. The intelligence level of British wizards is incredible. I think I should have gotten better results from the Americans! There. If that doesn't motivate you dunderheads to try harder, nothing will.

Finally, I titled this book what it presently is by combining the 3 good parts of the 3 good suggestions. _Longbottom's Special Brew_ is obviously a variation of Granger's, and a result of my own stubborn will to have Longbottom's name somewhere within the title. _Simple-Minded Potions Made Fantastically Deadly_ is an obvious variation of Potter's (although I am loath to admit it). I believe the present title lives up to modern British wizarding standards, and beyond: it is childish. But not so much as most, and says more about the contents of this book than most titles do. Besides, through it the world may come to know what a danger Neville Longbottom is in the Potions classroom, and if his future offspring (I shudder to think) are prevented from going within a 10-mile radius of a cauldron, I will have done my civic duty.


End file.
